


A new beginning

by Caleb475



Series: A new chapter [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game), overwatch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-10-01 09:01:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17241383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caleb475/pseuds/Caleb475
Summary: Some really short fragments of a (sorta) long story that I had been working on for a half year or so.





	1. Chapter 1:Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cassandracalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandracalls/gifts).



> Some really short fragments of a (sorta) long story that I had been working on for a half year or so.

Citizens shut their windows as a loud bang echoes through the empty streets, a wreath of sooty black smoke rising into the even blacker night sky. Then another. And another. A booming voice in Spanish sent sound waves bouncing off the numerous walls in countless alleys and forgotten buildings.   
“¡Esto es el ejército! Deja de resistir y entregar inmediatamente!”  
Shouts and screams came from terrified men that became more and more frenzied each time one of their comrades was brought down, the shouts sounding more like shrieks. A thin young man called Antonio, barely the age of twenty, dropped his gun in horror when he saw a body fall off a roof and land right in front of him with a sickening splat, skull split open. He realised that this was not the work of the military. Antonio abandoned all sense of reason and ran. He sped down the numerous dark alleys, hearing the screams of both men and women as blood coated the brick walls. He only stopped when a large brick wall blocked his path. Antonio slumped behind a dumpster, occasionally stretching his head out to peer behind the smoke. Nothing. Antonio let out a small sigh, relieved at his-wait a minute. Footsteps. Antonio craned his neck out once more, forehead slick with sweat. Antonio saw a red glow appear through the black smoke;the ground under him being slightly illuminate by the neon tattoos that still glowed after his bath in the city fountain. He cowered in fear as a man calmly strode through the smoke, unfazed by the dead bodies lying everywhere. His hair was white; the brick wall reflected the deathly red glow from his visor, and there were the numbers ‘76’ on the back of his outfit; faded and worn with time. Jack regarded the trembling man before him with disdain, and lifted up his rifle, finger resting on the trigger. Sirens blared as he saw soldiers rounding up the last of his comrades before staring right into the barrel of Jack's rifle.   
“Any last words?”  
“W-Who...are you?!”  
Jack gave a small smirk behind his visor before answering the man's final question.   
“Jack. Jack Morrison.”  
Then he opened fire.


	2. Chapter 2:A new chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack receives an unexpected phone call, and a new chance at starting anew.

Jack let out a sigh as he approached the small, dingy hotel that was, for now, his home. The staff at the concierge didn't have time to tell him that his stay was overdue as he slapped a huge wad of bills onto the counter the moment he entered the hotel lobby. The staff were too frightened to ask him anything; no one disturbs the guy with the futuristic rifle slung over his shoulder. They also didn't report him to the police; his ‘work’ had significantly lowered the town's crime rate, something that even the corrupt police of Mexico couldn't do for years. Jack climbed the rickety, rusted metal steps up to his small room. The door creaked open after a few swift kicks, and Jack instantly collapsed onto the small bed, tossing his rifle to the rotten remains of a wooden chair. Jack turned onto his side, his mind whirling with thoughts, namely how he had gotten to this dump in the middle of Dorado. He then considered his options on how to proceed further. When finding no available choices, he elegantly worded his anger and frustration into a single, gentlemanly word.  
“...fuck.”  
He then got up, kicked the door closed, and sat on the edge of the bed, eyes staring vacantly on the rug, worn after years of use. He took off his visor, revealing a huge scar that dominated his face as the familiar hissing entered his ears. Then the telephone rang, cracks on the plastic surface as wires spilled out of the body. Jack picked up the receiver, thinking that it was another telemarketer. It was not.  
“Who is this?”  
“Jack, this is Angela.”  
Jack's eyes widened a little; it had been years since anyone related to Overwatch had contacted him.  
“Angela. Go on.”  
“Well, if you haven't heard, Winston's reforming Overwatch. The world's facing danger once more, and people are lobbying for the reformation of Overwatch.”  
“Really? They didn't quite take a liking to us last time.”  
Jack's voice was bitter with hatred and sadness.  
“Jack...I know, and I'm sorry. But would you like to join the new Overwatch? I've already accepted the recall. Won't you come back?”  
Jack already knew his answer to Angela's question.  
“I'll think about...never mind. Yes, but on two conditions.”  
“What, Jack?”  
“Number one, I'm the boss of Overwatch. Number two.”  
“Uhh...number two?”  
“Get me a pickup. That's it.”  
A lapse of silence followed before Jack heard Angela chuckle; her next reply more light-hearted.  
“Seriously Jack? That's it? I thought you would ask for more.”  
“I'm a simple man with simple requests.”  
With that, Jack hung up and lay his head into the lumpy pillow, the rare ghost of a grin appearing on his face. Then he closed his weary eyes and slept soundly, a hint of optimism creeping into his thoughts once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: We explore the world of a rising star, and the immense stress behind a picturesque smile.


	3. Chapter 3:A new side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In life, most people want to be important and relied upon. For one Korean female, her wish is to just be normal.

Hana grumbled under her breath as she was summoned to her sponsor's office. Sure, her last ‘stunt’ was (slightly) dangerous, but it was worth it. She pushed the second wave of omnics back into the cold, dark ocean. There would be no attacks for at least a year, if not more. And this! Was the ‘gratitude’ she had deserved?! Hana let out an angry breath before composing herself as she eased open the oaken door. Before Hana was the Director of her main sponsor, nano-cola. Beside him was her team commander, Mr Sun. The director gave Hana a sympathetic look, an angry stare from the latter. Mr Sun slammed the wooden desk, his right eyelid twitching. Hana just stood there unaffected. The director immediately held a hand in front of Mr Sun and nodded to Hana, who semi-confidently strided forward.  
“Miss Song, do you know why we have called you here?”  
“Yes, I-”  
“Didn't do your damn job properly!”  
“With all due respect, I did protect Korea from the omnics as shown by the camera and video footage; unlike someone who told me to ‘wait for reinforcements’ as they fired missiles at our capital. Oh, and no casualties. You're welcome.”  
Hana quickly retorted, her sharp tongue piercing through Mr Sun's ego. Mr Sun shot Hana a look of pure venom and immediately focused back onto the director, the latter sighing.  
“Miss Song, WE have received reports about the recent omnic incident where-”  
“I almost died and I saved Korea. Go on.”  
“Although you did your job well, you must realise that you are an important public figure. Just look out of the window! Pictures of you are everywhere. You give the public hope in our military. Your presence improves the economy; you provide political stability. You said it yourself, you saved Korea. You keep Korea running. Now you must protect your country safe from internal threats, and that means not dying.”  
Hana was taken aback by the director's words. Was she really that irreplaceable?  
“I…I'm that important?”  
“Yes. So please don't make any rash decisions from now on, Hana. For the sake of Korea, stay safe. Only fight when you must. Okay?”  
Hana nodded meekly, and clenched her fist. She knew that her warm (fake) smile was holding up public morale after each omnic attack on the country, but the economy depended on her? She looked at the can of nano-cola on the desk. A (fake) picture of her grinning that stupid grin, holding that stupid can was printed on it. Hell, for all she knew, every product that contributed significantly to Korea's economy probably had her face on it. Hana felt a new kind of stress; not the if-I-die-the omnics-are-going-to-raze-Korea-to-the-ground-stress, but the if-I-die-Korea-will-collapse-stress. Korea could rebuild from the horrors of war, but could it withstand the economy, military, and public morale dying all at once? Hana's nose turned red, and she began to blink rapidly. She sniffed, and did something she hadn't done since eight years ago. She cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahh, it kinda sucks. But y'know, mayyybe I'll get better with more practice.  
> Chapter 4: We visit a man almost swept away by tide and time, content to be stuck in the past.


	4. Chapter 4:Old memories

Rays of the afternoon sun creeped into a huge stone house, the air hot and humid as the smell of sweat and grease hung in the air. Plates and pieces of metal were littered across the old wooden floor, some reflecting off the bright light, while other pieces seemed to absorb most of it. Reinhardt was polishing his chestplate to a bright shine when the maghony phone rang, the receiver vibrating violently. Reinhardt picked it up; phone calls rarely came. Lena's voice instantly blasted out of the receiver, chipper and explosive. Emphasis on the explosive. Reinhardt had to hold the receiver a few centimeters away to avoid permanent hearing damage to his left ear.  
“Hiya Rein! Whatcha’ doin?”  
A smile appeared on the old german's face; Lena always was a bundle of energy and joy. He set the metal chest plate aside and rested his left elbow onto the old table.  
“Not much. Mein freund, why did tu call?”  
“Oh, just checking if you asked your lovely squire to-”  
“Ja, she said yes to joining, but the mädchen wants some time to...settle. How does it go with your...gamer friend?”  
“Oh, Hana jumped abroad instantaneously, said something about not having to obey ridiculous orders anymore.”  
Reinhardt nodded absently, his gaze wandering to the random objects in his room.  
“Good, good. Well, anything else?”  
“Not really. I would love to stay and chat, but I've work to do. Seeya!”  
Reinhardt barely had time to reply before Lena hung up. He shook his head as a hearty chuckle escape his lips. He was getting too old to keep up with the younger generation, Reinhardt thought as he gently placed the huge chest plate back onto his lap and continued polishing the thick metal. Half an hour later, Reinhardt was at a nearby bar, drinking with his friends from the times when they were Crusaders. A heavyset man with a luscious golden beard slammed down his mug of ale in anger when their conversation edged towards the battle of Eichenwalde.  
“You know, we fought the omnics last time;Now look around us! Damn omnics everywhere! It's like our sacrifices were futile!”  
Reinhardt reassuringly patted the back of his comrade as he spoke in a timbre tone.  
“Mein freund, we have done all we could, do not kick yourself for failing to stop the inevitable. Besides, our fighting should have knocked some sense into them. Look around you! The newer omnics want peace and prosperity. No one wants to fight anymore.”  
“Those stupid omniums are still functioning, building those blasted machines of death. And as if we've haven't got enough, Talon shows up, burning and destroying everything in its path. I swear, they're in cahoots with those damn omnics!”  
Reinhardt drained his mug and refilled it hastily, pouring his golden-bearded friend another mug.  
“Aye, best not to think of such things. Now drink, and be merry!”  
The man nodded and gulped down the ale, his comrades clapping and cheering. But inside Reinhardt’s head gears were turning, and ideas came out of his mind, old but still as effective as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5:We revisit Jack Morrison.


	5. Chapter 5:A new Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finally gets to rebuild his beloved organization. The road may be long and harsh, but he doesn't care.

Jack woke up to the sound of knocking on his room door. Forcing his tired body out of bed, Jack twisted the brass doorknob and opened the door, seeing Angela waiting patiently.  
“Angela?! What brings you here?”  
Angela had a small smile on her face as she held out a plastic bag for Jack, which rustled as he took it cautiously.  
“I got a ride for you. Go change.”  
Jack peeked inside the bag; it was his current outfit, only in a much better condition. No tears, smudges, and stains. A second set of clothes, a second chance for him. Jack blinked back tears as he nodded to Angela and proceeded to the bathroom to change. Jack put on his new uniform with much excitement as nostalgic thoughts surfaced in his mind. He combed his hair and washed his face. He was a new Jack, and he would not take this chance lightly. Jack strode out of the bathroom with a smile on his face. As he turned to exit the room, Angela tapped him on the shoulder.  
“Forgetting something, Jack?”  
Jack turned around to find Angela holding his visor in one hand the other supporting his rifle which was propped up by her legs.  
“Thanks doc, but I don't need this.”  
Jack took the visor and tucked it into the left pocket of his new coat, and grabbed his rifle effortlessly. Angela nodded encouragingly, and Jack let the slight smile bloom as it stretched across his face.  
“Shall we go? Your ride is waiting.”  
“We shall.”  
Jack confidently strode across the hotel lobby, where two armed guards saluted him as the hotel staff watched in complete disbelief. Jack felt the Mexican sun cook him alive as he was escorted out of the lobby, where more guards were holding a curious crowd back. Jack and Angela were brought to a sleek hoverjet, the Overwatch logo on the tail standing out from its black exterior;Jack recognised it as one of the newer models: the Eclipse. The hoverjet was surrounded by three XTC-60 hyperjets, plasma cannons and Orion rocket launchers locked and loaded. The Plexiglas cockpit cover shone in the sun, the blue coloured camouflage blending in so well with the sky, such that you only had a ten percent chance to see it the moment it was airborne. Angela boarded first, followed by Jack. The interior of the jet was just as impressive as the exterior. Screens plastered the walls, showing myriads of maps and statistics. A comfortable plush sofa sat in the middle of the room, and a huge display was mounted onto a wall, between two oak doors. Behind one was the restroom, but the other led to a private resting area, complete with another television and a private shower. Jack and Angela sank into the sofa as the door slid closed, the soft humming of the engines barely heard as the hoverjet lifted off the ground, its occupants not feeling any movement. As the jet rose into the air and sped through the skies with its escorts, Jack felt a something in his heart he thought he had lost long ago. Hope.


	6. Chapter six:A New Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter six:We go to Russia for a very short visit with Zarya and Volskaya.

Zarya approached Madame Volskaya fearlessly, strong hands on her muscled hip. Madame Volskaya had her back turned to the Russian athlete, her cold silence making her bodyguards nervous. Her ice blue eyes narrowed as she turned to face Zarya, her sentence said through gritted teeth.   
“So...you haven't found her?”  
Zarya replied defensively, cautious to not anger the most powerful woman in mighty Russia.   
“Well, I have found her, just...she escaped.”  
“Then you haven't found her. Look at the paper, Zarya.”  
The athlete glanced at the headlines of the newspaper that lay on the polished desk. It read: ‘Overwatch to reform as Talon terrorises world.’  
“I have heard about Talon, yes. But Overwatch coming back, no.”  
Volskaya's response sounded slightly exasperated, but her calm expression remained.   
“Then learn, Zarya. Learn all you can. Find the hacker and kill her. Show her the consequences of messing with Russia.”  
“Madame Volskaya, I have one question.:  
Madame Volskaya folded her arms and stared straight into Zarya's eyes.   
“Ask.”  
“Has she done things that deserving of death? I-”  
A cutting stare stopped Zarya mid-sentence.  
“Do you love your country?”  
Zarya nodded instinctively.  
“Are you proud of Russia's achievements, her buildings, her history;the Kremlin, the factories pounding into the night?”  
Zarya's single-worded reply was full of devoted loyalty and pride for her great country as her heart swelled.  
“Yes.”  
“Then think of her as an enemy of our nation. She wants to destroy Russia, watch her cave in, and revel the destruction of the most powerful nation in the word. This will not do.”  
Zarya grit her teeth and controlled her rage at the thought of this hacker defacing her beloved nation. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists tightly.   
“No. It will not.”  
“So, Zarya…”  
“Yes, Madame Volskaya?”  
“Kill. Her.”  
Zarya felt the remnants of her courage melt away at the sight of the seething woman before her.   
“Yes, Madame Volskaya.”  
“Join Overwatch and kill her. Make her suffer. Understood?”  
Volskaya's words made a shiver go down Zarya's spine.  
“Yes.”  
“Then go.”  
Zarya then stomped out of the room, her mind focused on one clear objective.


	7. Chapter 7: A new face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7: Jack goes onstage as a new Overwatch rises.

Jack peeked out behind the lush red curtains and saw around eighty seated guests, a slightly bored look on some of their faces. Journalists piled up against the windows, their flashing cameras trying to capture the scene of a long forgotten soldier who was ‘forced’ back into the light. Jack turned to Ana Amari, his visor hiding the pronounced frown on his scarred face.  
“Do I really have to wear this visor? I thought this was a new Overwatch. A new beginning.”  
Ana shrugged her shoulders and glanced at Jack nonchalantly.  
“Look, maybe they just want the old Overwatch; the one they could rely on.”  
“And the one they abandoned and killed? That Overwatch? I'll have you know; they didn't give two shits when Overwatch fell. They wanted me to be jailed when I was a renegade. This is all just a fucking facade.”  
Jack's fists balled up, his nails digging into the inside of his leather gloves. Ana spoke again, her tone considerably softer.  
“Jack, think about it. You love Overwatch;poured your heart and soul into it. You wouldn't care what people did or thought about Overwatch. The Jack I knew only cared about helping others. Where's that Jack?”  
Jack's stomach turned as he suppressed a new bout of memories.  
“He's dead. Anything worth saving in him was long gone.”  
Ana still managed to maintain her calm composure, staring Jack directly in his visor.  
“Then call Angela. She'll resurrect him.”  
Jack gave a mirthless chuckle and glanced back out through the stage curtains. The emcee was about to finish his introduction; it would be his turn soon.  
“Tell them why Overwatch was formed, and why it's need again. Simple. No sob stories about why it fell; hide those from the camera, or the new Overwatch may fall again.”  
Jack nodded very slightly, his forehead creased.  
“And now, ladies, gentlemen, and omnics! May I please get an applause for the commander of Overwatch! Soldier 76, Jack Morrison!”  
There was an enthusiastic response as Jack took the podium, his new uniform reflecting the spotlight's shine brilliantly. Sounds of clicking flooded the room as cameras of all shapes and sizes took various pictures at various angles of the legendary figure of Jack Morrison. Jack cleared his throat after the applause died down.  
“Good evening all; I shall get straight to the point. The world is in danger once more, and Overwatch is here to intervene for humanity's safety. As the newspapers have told us, Talon is terrorizing the world, threatening the peace society has so painstakingly built up. Meanwhile, hostile omniums are awakening around the world, attacking sovereign nations and killing our humans and omnics who just want peace. You see it on the televisions and holo-screens, people are scared. Now, Overwatch will rise again and protect humanity from Talon and the hostile omnics!”  
Jack took a moment to compose himself; he wasn't used to saying such a massive amount of bullshit.  
“Now, the United Nations have placed their trust in us as humanity's safeguards. I now ask for your support in restoring Overwatch. Thank you.”  
The applause lasted exactly fifteen and a half seconds; Jack noted as the camera bathed him in yet another wave of light, and he momentarily glanced at the black sky outside.  
“I will now take questions from the floor.”  
One journalist in the room raised her hand up, and Jack nodded to her. She stood up, a shit-eating grin on her face.  
“Yes, Miss…”  
“May. Miss May. You said that Overwatch would protect humanity from the omnics; but the events of the second omnic war proved the opposite. How can Overwatch restore confidence in the public, such that they can trust Overwatch again?”  
Jack knew this question would crop up; this fucking question. His mouth suddenly went dry as his mind whirled about, the gears in his head turning so quickly that their teeth were red hot. The journalist, seeing no response, gave Jack one last smirk, and sat down. The scars of the second omnic war had left its mark, and until now, it's rarely mentioned. Omnics in the audience eyed each other nervously, one or two already headed for the exit. The hall was dead quiet, the audience shocked at the audacity of the question, yet curious as to how Jack would react. Jack spent a long time thinking; nothing. At last he opened his mouth, lips cracked.  
“Well. During the...conflict, Overwatch was kept uninformed about the reality of the situation. Furthermore, the public firmly rejected Overwatch's forces until the very last battle. This is why I plead for the public's utmost support. Thank you. Any other questions?”  
No hands raised up; nobody stood. Then a sudden applause rippled through the hall, stunning Jack. The emcee suddenly appeared onstage, and gestured discreetly for Jack to go backstage. Jack nodded and strode behind the stage curtains, his legs giving way as he collapsed into a plush sofa, Ana giving him an amused look as she sipped from her cup.  
“Well, that was a failure.”  
Ana shook her head, and offered Jack a cup of tea.  
“Want some? It's black tea.”  
At this point, Jack just wanted a drink. He accepted the cup and gingerly lifted it to his lips, breathing the scent in. The tea soothed his lips as its warmth spread through Jack's body, rejuvenating him.  
“I wouldn't call that a failure.”  
Jack glanced up at Ana, setting the cup onto a nearby table. He pressed the release button on the left side of his head. Jack's visor suddenly lost its red glow as steam from both sides, emanating a hissing sound. Jack took off the visor and placed it beside the cup, the jagged scar across his face now revealed.  
“How?”  
“For starters, you answered the journalist's shit question nicely, calling for the public to give us more support. In that way, you deflected most of the blame off of us, and slightly pressured the public to give us more leeway without creating a public outrage. It was a success.”  
Jack raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile.  
“When you put it that way...I guess it's not that bad.”  
Ana gave a small chuckle as she placed her empty cup beside Jack's, pulling out her holoscreen.  
“It wasn't bad. Now, have you heard about our bases’ locations?”  
“No, not yet.”  
“That's good; you're not supposed to. First things first, we'll need to assemble all Overwatch agents, new and old, to our new headquarters in Switzerland.”  
“Alright. I'll notify them. When do we go?”  
Ana glanced at Jack, her eyes slightly weary after the day's events.  
“Tomorrow.”  
Then Jack stood up, bones creaking as he pushed the door open and stepped into the corridor, feeling much better than before.


	8. Chapter 8: A New Headquarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new side character, new facilites, and a renewed progress on this story!

Angela wondered what the new headquarters of Overwatch would look like as the Eclipse's engines hummed ever so softly. A glowing screen beside her showed the conditions of the five modified E3Fs she had brought along, cargo holds laden full with medical supplies and equipment. If what she had heard was correct, the headquarters would be up and running by next week. With the push of a small blue button, the wall of screens moved and split, exposing another wall of perspex glass, allowing Angela to have a bird's-eye view of the land she was passing through. Huge mountains loomed in the distance, the tall peaks reaching out to the sky. The miraculously calm weather meant that Angela could see the outline of buildings in the distance. A tall needle-like structure pierced through the sky, the glittering tip covered by the clouds. Beside the elegant needle is a rounded building, antennas and satellites covering the top and sides of the superstructure. The rest are blocky buildings with glass corridors connecting them together, forming one big maze. Angela looked on in awe as a huge Overwatch logo revealed itself, plastered onto the round building amidst the steel antennas. A gentle chirp startled Angela, her pulse slightly quickening until she discovered that it was the jet's automated response system.   
“Please stay seated. We are reaching our destination.”  
The jet headed towards a plain, nondescript white building, showing no signs of stopping as it approached the white wall. Angela began to show signs of panic, casting alarmed glances at the building the doomed jet was flying towards. She quickly strapped herself into her seat, covered her head, and muttered silent prayers as the jet continued on its suicide course. Then, when all seemed lost, Angela heard a slightly loud grinding sound, and peeked up from her protective cocoon. To her complete amazement, the building seemed to open up, the two large panels sliding to the sides of the building, exposing a huge facility full of technology. Planes began to take off from multiple runways as a tractor beam slowly pulled Angela's jet in, multiple mechanical claws gently but firmly gripping onto the exterior of the Eclipse, guiding it down onto a metal platform. As Angela stumbled out of her chair, the automated door opened, and the steps were laid out for her. Smoothing her hair as she descended, Angela counted exactly thirty-two runways, around half filled with planes. She saw her five E3Fs being conveyed into the building, the cargo being carefully put into a pneumatic transportation system after being scanned by four metal arms outfitted with ion scanners.   
“So that's why I needed to write down the destinations.”  
Angela smirked to herself as she walked to the door, slapping her brand-new access card onto the brand-new scanner. The door slid open, and Angela found herself in a whole new world.   
The white floor gleamed and sparkled, greenery arife behind glass walls. Monitors of all shapes and sizes displayed the Overwatch logo, and Angela almost squeaked in delight as a small rover drove up to her, a soft rumbling coming from its body as it waved a greeting with its artificial, multi-jointed hand.   
Angela continued wandering through the maze of tunnels and corridors, finally realizing after thirty minutes that she was lost.   
After another half hour of wandering through tunnels and corridors, a dazed Angela headed towards the information kiosk, the screen only showing a thumbprint icon.   
“Please press your thumb onto the scanner.”  
Angela obliged, the kiosk her only way of navigating through the huge place.  
“Good afternoon, Miss Angela. Your designated living space and laboratory will be suite 4A-5 and lab 45 respectively. Have a nice day.”  
The kiosk spit out a small slip of paper, showing Angela her living quarters and working areas, as well as the schedule for the week. Angela then consulted the kiosk once again, and after half an hour, finally found her laboratory. Then gears clicked inside her head; the place was strangely silent, except for the whirring and grinding of robots and mechanical devices. Hell, she hadn't even seen anyone since the moment she stepped into the compound. Angela suppressed any uneasy thoughts, and came up with a rational reason.  
“Okay...maybe they're at another area?”  
Angela then followed the signs to the inter-building train. The blue-striped train whisked her away silently and quickly; a quick glance revealed that Angela was the only person on the train.   
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are now reaching the main building. Please do not leave your belongings unattended.”  
Angela strutted out of the train, desperately hoping to see at least one person. Her frantic prayers were finally answered as she saw scientists in lab coats striding along the myriad of corridors, security guards at their posts, and engineers installing a few flat screens. Angela heaved a sigh of relief.  
“So I wasn't crazy…”  
“Who wasn't crazy?”  
Angela gave a small yelp of surprise as she whirled around, and saw a thin, bespectacled man raise his hands up in mock surprise. Seeing Angela still stunned, the man gave an apologetic grin and started conversing, his voice somewhat high-pitched.  
“Sorry, you looked a little lost;I was just wondering if you needed any help getting through the facilities. I'm Anton, by the way.”  
Angela broke out of her daze and nodded a little too vigorously.  
“Yeah, I guess I'm a little lost. I didn't see anyone in the building just now.”  
“Ah, the tourism wing. Yeah, all that's stuff for show. The ideas of automation.”  
Angela felt a slight disappointment in her heart.  
“So it's all for show?”  
“Yep. You really think Overwatch has all that funding? Anyway, have you been told where you're going to stay? They have a habitation tower built specially for all the staff to live in. You know, on account of the weather outside being below the freezing point of water.”  
Angela rolled her eyes and read the slip of paper she had been given.  
“I'm in…suite 4A-5.”  
Anton whistled.   
“Wow, you really hit the jackpot. I've a suite too, just that it's all the way out. Yours is right in front of the station. Do you want to see it?”  
Angela shrugged, her mask of indifference doing its job well as a small bout of nausea tickled her senses.  
“Alright, so we first have to board the train to the habitation wing.”  
Anton and Angela went through the turnstiles right as the train stopped right by the platform, the striped doors opening. As Angela strided on-board, Anton turned to his holoscreen, consulting his map.   
“Let's see...4A-5, 4A-5...there! All you have to do after you exit the station is turn right and take the elevator up to the tenth floor.”  
Angela nodded, eager to start a conversation of her own to take her mind off the worsening nausea.  
“So, Anton, what role do you play in Overwatch?”  
“Oh, nothing big. Just the head neurosurgeon. You know, the guy that does surgery?”  
“Ah. Well, I guess you must have very steady hands.”  
“Well, not that steady; I still haven't gotten them to stop shaking everytime after I give a speech.”  
Angela laughed abruptly, and an awkward silence filled the train as it glided smoothly down the tunnel. Angela now really felt sick. She covered her mouth and slowly blew out warm air, her head spinning as she tried to grasp onto a pole for stability. Mercifully, the courteous voice of the announcer filled the room.   
“Ladies and Gentlemen, We have reached the habitation tower, please…”  
The train slowed down gradually, in contrast to Angela's quickening heartbeat, which occupied her ears along with that strange ringing noise. Anton shifted his feet uncomfortably, his eyes darting here and there. After another long silence, Anton finally opened his mouth, desperate to break the tension.  
“So...if you don't mind me asking, which department do you serve in? Seems you're pretty important, judging by your living quarters.”  
“I'm...I serve in the medical department. I'm...Angela Ziegler.”  
Angela closed her eyes and shut out the noise. She didn't know what happened to her or why; she just wanted to get off.  
“Oh.”  
Oh?   
“Well, I can show you where-”  
“I can manage. Thanks for being my guide. See you.”  
Without looking back, Angela stepped off the train, leaving Anton behind. Besides the nausea and dizziness, her mind was full of thoughts, her heart full of questions. Meanwhile, Anton glanced back towards his holoscreen, mentally chiding himself not to be so friendly with everyone he had just met. After all, not everyone was friendly towards him. In fact, around 13.345% were hostile. Anton banged his fist onto the plastic seat beside him, the train magnanimously ignoring his action as it silently whizzed down the tunnel.


	9. A New War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Overwatch stabilised and ready, Jack charts a new course for his refurbished organization.

Jack waited outside the two oak doors, the golden handles reflecting the cold mask that hid his trepidation. Beside the huge, intimidating doors, a golden plaque engraved with the words ‘Emergency Meeting’ hung on the wall. Behind those doors were the special agents of Overwatch, reactivated and ready for combat. Jack exhaled slowly, the mask venting out thin streams of vapor. His eyes hurt after poring through reams of documents until the letters and numbers squirmed and swam before his vision, impairing his eyesight for half a minute. Jack stumbled, his head spinning as his legs crossed and buckled. He felt like he was falling into a deep dark pit, the black abyss swallowing him as he struggled with the darkness, sensing eyes boring deep into-  
“Sir.”  
Jack jolted and spun around, knees weak and trembling as he regarded the lightweight, eager and youthful woman before him.   
Jack steadied himself and took a deep breath, the latter action becoming part of his subconscious.  
“Yes?”  
“They're ready.”  
Jack nodded to the woman as she opened the doors, a blast of cold air chilling Jack's bones, beckoning him inside.  
Jack stepped in, his gaze of red meeting the faces of his agents and friends. He walked over to the center of the room, everyone's gazes fixated on him. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, reflecting rays of light as Jack's arms instinctively spread out, his hands stretched open, welcoming the very first speech to the new agents of the reformed Overwatch.   
“Good afternoon everyone, welcome back to Overwatch. I trust that everyone has found their respective places and settled in?”   
Jack saw a few nods around the table.  
“Good, good. Frankly, I haven't planned this far yet, so…”  
A few good-natured chuckles went round the room, slightly easing the room's tension. Jack knew that the first week in the reformed organization was tough not just on him, but also on everyone. Agents rushed in and had to settle down and familiarise themselves with their own schedule and businesses in just a few days. But, it was worth it. Overwatch was back, and it was to begin its first mission very soon. There was no time to waste on useless paperwork and introductory procedures when both Talon and the Omnics are at the door.   
“So, this meeting is to introduce you to the vision and purpose of Overwatch, but I trust you all already know those.”  
More laughter and awkward chuckles.   
“So we'll be heading straight into the matter. As the United Nations has stated, we have to face both the omnics and Talon. So with all the administrative and introductory work skipped, we'll be heading our first offensive mission.”  
Jack saw Lena, her excitement barely concealed as her eyes bulged with joy. He saw Angela, her eyebags slightly lighter than before, a tired smile on her face. He saw Reinhardt, a huge grin revealing his white, pristine teeth. Jack glanced at the interested faces of the other agents, their enthusiasm spurring him on.   
“Our first targets will be the Omnics. We'll have our first meeting tomorrow at this very room, 9am sharp. Rest well everyone, we'll have a hell of a time tomorrow.”


End file.
